The Spineless Teacher (19/02/25)

The Spineless Teacher

[In spite of being a very ordinary teacher, I consider myself lucky that there was only once a complaint lodged against me as a Subject Teacher. It happened a couple of years before my superannuation. I was both the Class Teacher and Subject Teacher of XII SC, undoubtedly the most promising batch of students I ever taught.

When the Class Captain informed me that they didn’t want me to be their Subject Teacher though they didn’t mind having me as their Class Teacher, I talked to Madam Anju and Madam Chencho, the two other Language Teachers dealing with the higher classes at that time. Both of them flatly refused my request. And a very ordinary teacher that I have been, I had no option other than continuing to be their Subject Teacher! 

All the characters are based on real pupils. I changed their professions while editing this story tonight.]

The Spineless Teacher

The date is 25th September, 2030. Some six of the alumni of

Class-XII Sc B of the year of 2011 of Chhukha Higher Secondary School, Tsimalakha, Bhutan, are assembled on a gloomy day at the carpeted, cozy room on the first floor of the recently come up Hotel Heaven some hundred yards or so above the Boys’ Hostel of the school.

All of them have done quite well in life and distinguished themselves in their own fields. Lyenpo (Minister) Som Bdr, the diminutive, fun-loving, friend-of-all and enemy to none, is the Agricultural Minister of the country; Dambar, the innocent looking yet the most mischievous boy of the class, is the Director of the first MNC in the country; Yang Tshering Sherpa, the counselor then, is a Public Prosecutor; Passang Dorji, more popularly known as the MJ of CHSS at that time, is the owner of a dance troupe; Ashik, the topper of that batch, is an architect and Gyan Bdr, is the Chief Editor of My Bhutan, the first bilingual newspaper with a readership of over one lack in the country.

This cream of the Bhutanese citizenry, is gathered here to commemorate the death anniversary of someone they had a kind of bitter-sweet relationship with during the first year of their high school.

“I vividly remember that fateful day in September, 2011,” Dr. Ashik Rai is heard reminiscing, “Sir, as usual, was teaching us a poem lifelessly when Dechen Dorji stood up and said in his characteristic childish way: ‘I didn’t understand anything of this poem. This must be the worst literature class I’ve ever attended in my life.’

We all were getting ready, expecting the mild-mannered Teacher to at least react to Dechen’s venomous remark for a change. Any one in his place would have lost cool and reacted sternly but not RNB! He patiently heard Dechen through and expressed his regret for not being able to live up to his expectations. Patience was undoubtedly one of his hallmarks …”

As doctor Ashik, immaculately dressed in a suit, loosens his tie knot, takes a sip of the crystal glass of lemonade juice before sinking back into his cushion, the rest put their hands together. A heavy silence prevails in the air for sometime before Gyan Bdr clears his throat and stands up to address the gathering.

“Besides patience, the other remarkable virtue that characterizes RNB sir in my eyes was his gentlemanliness and forgiving nature. I have heard it said that once a former student criticized him on his face and called him names by telling him that he was the most spineless teacher she had ever come across in her entire life, that a softie like him was a disgrace to the profession and that he would have done well at babysitting!

Despite the pain in his eyes, Sir was forgiving to her even then…!”

“He was a good man, no doubt about it.” Yang Tshering takes up from where Gyan Bdr. has left. “I’ll never forget that ill-fated September 25th afternoon. The class was going on in full swing. I found Gyan discussing something with him standing near the Teacher Desk when I heard the bull horn sounding loud and clear.

The next moment there was utter mayhem with all the students rushing to hide under the desks! I found Kencho, half kneeling under their desk, literally pulling Dawa off the chair for the ‘duck, hold and cover’ we were taught during the mock drills. There was panic writ large on the faces of most our friends before the maddening rush for the door.

RNB Sir, in his calm and composed voice, having stood up by then from the Teacher’s chair behind the desk at the corner, could be heard addressing the class not to lose our cool, not to be panicky and not to forget to get out of the class in a line. My greatest regret till date is that I scurried out of the class without so much as a thought for him …”

His voice choking, Yang Tshering slumps down on the sofa, unable to proceed any more. The atmosphere in the room was unimaginably somber and poignant. Dambar in the meanwhile has put his glass of Bhutan Mist down on the mahogany table and barges in spontaneously :

“I’s just sauntering out when I heard Sir calling out to me. ‘Dambar, Can you give me a hand? I think Tara has injured herself while trying to get out from under the desk ….’ Both of us carried her down and handed her to the rescue team. I don’t know what got into him next as I could see him running back up the stairs. I couldn’t believe it and shouted our:

“Sir where are you going? They informed there may be another tremor coming soon.”

“Don’t worry, Dambar. I am fine. I just want to make sure there is no one up there in the class …” No sooner had he uttered those words than the whole building quaked like the bleating lamb about to be slaughtered, and came tumbling down like there was a tsunami!”

The voice of the Director quivers as he becomes extremely emotional. “I think I was the last one to hear his voice. That’s a monstrous earthquake in recent memory, bordering on 9 on the Richter’s Scale! I still remember how Madam Anju got affected by the calamity and shifted to one of the Staff Quarters from Alubari soon afterwards.” Dambar takes a brisk look-around, glances at his wrist watch before continuing, 

“RNB Sir’s mutilated body was hard to recognize when the Rescue Team unearthed it from under the debris … I feel sad at the thought that it took us something like his demise to make us realize how very different he was from all others.”

Dechen Dorji, the Principal and proprietor of The New Horizon, a private school in the locality, is the last one to speak:

“Let me, on this commemorating day, express my gratitude to the man I owe a lot to. He always encouraged us. Called us ‘gifted’ and ‘special’ and never made us feel low. I sincerely thank god for his presence in my life .”

Outside the street lights were beginning to come to life under a clear, grey sky with those myriads of twinkling stars overhead.

Writer’s Note : Gopal Subba, my class captain came to me a few days back asking me for one of my stories for The Reader’s Theatre. I woke up quite early the next morning and scribbled down the above story. As luck would have it, my class rejected my story outright the moment I had finished reading it out to them!

 The end